Chapter 3 Medal

They chose thirty-three other Prince Eaters before they even thought of me, but somebody refused. Technically that makes me 34. I can’t imagine why anyone would refuse. Can you?— Prince Eater #34

The next day Holy King Harrison sent the Medal of the King’s Honor for Heroism to Alec for his role in rescuing Jon. Sadly, His Majesty was too overwrought with grief to attend the ceremony so he directed that one of Alec’s superior officers bestow it on him.

Sergeant Isla MacDonald strode into the barracks, demanded everyone’s attention, and then called Alec Mulrian forward. Stepping in front of Alec, she retrieved the medal from the box, held it up for everyone to see, inspected the front, inspected the back, grunted a loud “harrumph,” and returned the medal to the box. Turning sharply, she stomped out the door and tossed the box with the medal into the large barracks trash bin.

Before anyone could move or react, someone outside the barracks door barked, “Sergeant MacDonald!”

“Yes, sir,” she responded.

“You are derelict in your duties as an officer, Sergeant, and in a serious state of Contempt toward the Crown,” Captain Brady responded, still speaking loudly for the sake of everyone inside the barracks. He lifted a brow over one heavily lashed eye and commanded, “Retrieve that medal immediately and clean it thoroughly.”

The Royal Archers heard shuffling paper, thudding boxes, and MacDonald panting as she crawled into the trash bin, located the box containing the medal, and then scaled the sides of the large container to get back out. After a few minutes of silence, Captain Brady said, “Give it here. Now follow me. Parade march, Sergeant.”

Captain Brady strode into the barracks where the Royal Archers immediately resumed standing at attention. Pointing to MacDonald, he said, “You stand right there, Sergeant. I don’t want to hear one word, not even a cough until I tell you otherwise.”

As MacDonald complied, the captain strode proudly down the line of Royal Archers until he stood in front of Alec Mulrian. Taking the freshly polished medal from the box, he pinned it precisely on Alec’s uniform, and offered, “Congratulations, Corporal Mulrian. You have the gratitude of Holy King Harrison for acting so quickly to save the life of Prince Jon. The events yesterday were unprecedented and dangerous. I know that I and the rest of the Royal Archers are honored to have you as one of us.”

The captain saluted Alec who returned the salute with precision despite feeling awkward about being on display in front of everyone. He glanced at MacDonald as he did, but immediately shifted his eyes back to the captain who was saying, “As you were. Not you Sergeant MacDonald. Thank you again, Mulrian.”

Alec’s comrades crowded around him, pounding his back and congratulating him while the captain ambled past Sergeant MacDonald without speaking. From time to time a subordinate officer from the captain’s office stopped in to check on Sergeant MacDonald, but Captain Brady did not return to the barracks until two hours later. He strolled the full length of the building stopping to greet each archer still present, and then as he sauntered out he stopped in front of her and said, “At ease, Sergeant.” He started out the door, and then paused to warn over his shoulder, “Next time the dungeon.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Alec slept poorly that night because he kept reliving the death of his two friends and the attack on Prince Jon. The royal funeral would be held at Second Sun rise the next morning and his mind had just settled at the break of First Sun when Sergeant MacDonald called him into the barracks office. She spoke plainly, “Under no circumstances are you to appear at or be seen anywhere near the royal funeral, Mulrian. Your relationship with Prince Jon has been called into question. Why did you find it appropriate to leave your station at the Ritual and race into the arena like some fool?”

“Sir?” Alec responded. “I was protecting the prince. I regret that I was unable to protect His Royal Highness, Prince Ethan, also.”

“Yes, yes,” Sergeant MacDonald continued. “Holy King Harrison is grateful. The country loves you. You’re the darling of the moment. Blah, blah, blah. Nevertheless, Prince Jon is next in line for the Ritual, and it is no longer appropriate for you to be his friend.”

“Sir? How could friendship be inappropriate?”

“Don’t be insubordinate. I’m giving you a direct order. Do not attend the funeral. From this moment forward, do not continue your relationship with Prince Jon on any level beyond the professional services of a Royal Archer. If I find that you have ignored any of these orders, you will be flogged and thrown in the dungeon for at least eight dimmings, longer if I feel like it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed.”

Alec walked from the barracks slowly, his head low, his shoulders slumped. He wasn’t on duty until nightfall, and the entire day spread out before him. A day in which he would not see Jon, would not be able to offer him support, and would not know how the prince was dealing with his shock and grief. He hadn’t seen Jon since the Kings Guards took him from his arms.

He sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and circled back to the barracks where he dug through his locker to find the bag of white and blue feathers he had saved, the knife he used exclusively for fletching, his cutting board, glue, and the shafts he had ready. Wandering from the Royal Archers’ Complex, he found a shady spot under a St. Edmunds Willow on the bank of the nearby pond and began the tedious, exacting work of fletching three sides of the shafts.

Numerous groups of soldiers, archers, and Grays gathered in distant groups or walked together intent on their mission of the day without giving him more than a passing glance. Yet Alec was uncomfortably aware of the unwavering surveillance of two low-ranking archers who followed his every move. After he'd been there a couple of hours, he looked up to see the massive Grays Commander sitting comfortably on his stallion, also observing him intently.

Gil Braeford adjusted his three-sided brim protector so that it obscured his face as he resisted acknowledging Alec when the archer looked up. Knowing Alec to be an exemplary soldier, Gil wondered why it had taken so long to survey his surroundings. Even as he asked himself the question, he shrugged it off. Grief was explanation enough.

Mulrian had known Prince Reginald and Prince Ethan personally and should have attended the funeral. When Gil noticed Mulrian’s absence, he sent inquiries. His spies came back with an incredible report that a direct order had exiled Mulrian from Jon’s presence and then went on to detail her animosity toward Mulrian in general and how often she abused him. Gil would have to see about straightening out the sergeant’s frame of mind. Not only were her actions unbecoming of an officer, but she also played a perilous game with her future – if she were successful in bringing down Mulrian she would find the two most important members of the Royal House pitted against her, along with most of the residents of Hilltown.

© 2022 Vera S. Scott